


drink deeply (sink slow)

by heartily



Category: A Crown of Candy - Fandom, Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: 25 YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!, 4+1 Things, Betrayal, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Flashbacks, M/M, Some depictions of violence, but to ME it is, it's like not explicitly calmethar, it's not explicit either but if u have read it u will know, light references to sucrosi road, mention of amethar's sisters, narcissus the myth, prose heavy, references to margaret atwood's poem - tricks w/ mirrors, stream significant figures' new album
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartily/pseuds/heartily
Summary: and how could he stop himself from drinking too deep from the pool that poisons the gluttons, for the nectar is sweeter than honey?or: four times calroy drank from the pool of indulgence, and the one time he sank beneath the surface.
Relationships: Calroy Cruller/Amethar Rocks
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	drink deeply (sink slow)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this late at night when i had about four subjects worth of homework to do  
> i think this is the first fic that i'm ever uploading to the fandom please be kind,, i am,, i don't want to say i'm New to writing fic bc i'm not but i'm new to writing for acoc and d20 in general bc i never finish my wips :sob: anyway this one goes out to the calrotters list bc we all have brainrot i love u guys ^~^

foreign concepts are feared by cowards, explored by adventurers, thought of by philosophers.

these concepts are clouds, soft and sweet cotton candy clouds that take up space but hold no physical form, words that manifest in truths and untruths alike, whispers that seek to fulfill and grant knowledge. it dances alongside theories, mingles with the possibilities debunked, charms the universal truths, for it can be everything and nothing at once - a truth and a lie, life and death, light and darkness.

they take the form of many within a person’s mind, and plant the seeds of doubt and excitement and curiosity, depending on where you stand. on how you see foreign concepts, on how you visualize them in your head.

to the common person, a concept can only be taken so far. it can only be feared, explored, thought of.

calroy cruller is no common person. for he sees these foreign concepts and exploits them. he takes them by the hand and cradles them in his arms, whispering his own truths and lies to feed the hungry belly of knowledge, to satiate these foreign concepts that he will soon take as his own.

something that’s new is impressionable, vulnerable, malleable. it is only a matter of being bold enough to feed parts of yourself to build it into something that’s yours.

_the first time calroy drank from the pool of indulgence, it was a mere sip. a drop of golden honey-like fluid. a small taste of what was yet to consume him._

it was during a time when monsters were indistinguishable from those that he saw around him. it was during a time of war.

it was only supposed to be a nod of recognition on the battlefield. a tall, broad-shouldered man, with pink skin that glowed beneath his golden armour. green hair fell over his face, framing his features in a way that made him look too boyish to be screaming with a sword in his hands and rage in his eyes. a split second of observation, a curious glance into the familiarity of who this man was, until calroy was knocked to the ground, a blade to his bruised cheek by a ceresian soldier who looked hungry for a kill.

calroy grunted, struggling against the soldier’s grasp. there was a feeble attempt to hoist his knee up to the soldier’s groin, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

the sequence of events was a blur, difficult for calroy to process especially in the heat of battle. his right arm, which was held in place by the soldier, was now free. the weight of the fighter was suddenly lifted off of his body. calroy blinks, hears a grunt from his side, and when his eyes opened, the soldier was on the ground, bleeding with a nasty gut wound. sounds surrounded him, a cacophony of screams and weaponry clinking against one another, fires that roared in the distance.

a voice from his side.

“get up, soldier,” he heard someone say. gentle, but firm. calloused, but caring.

calroy looked to his side. there stood the boyish man with the golden armour and the pink skin that glowed beneath it.

the coronet that rests upon his head is tilted ever so slightly. the band of silver gleams, reflecting the light of the bulb that makes calroy’s eye wince. the boyish man wears it with his hair over top of the band, green locks matching the hues of emeralds within the crown.

prince amethar rocks, fifth in line for the throne of candia.

calroy gulped down his surprise, chastising himself privately for not recognizing him sooner. he stood, seemingly aware that the battle around them has slowed. dusts himself off. nods curtly. “my apologies, your highness, and thank you.”

prince amethar raised a brow. “down here, it’s just amethar. titles are nothing when we’re on the battlefield.”

and with those words, calroy felt his rising resentment for the boy king that seems to know so little of the world, for titles are everything when you’re on the battlefield. if you hold your title with pride during a siege that gleams with success, your title becomes your name. if you strike down a title with your sword, you rise beyond its ranks. you are feared, praised, glorified, a god in every aspect that matters in the world of politics.

but calroy didn’t say that. instead, he smiled, tongue in cheek, bowing with a mocking tone. “alright, amethar. thank you.”

and they continue fighting. the attack was successful, casualties far greater on the enemy’s side than theirs. when the soldiers celebrate by a large fire, amethar sat next to him. when they all cheered with tankards of beer aloft, amethar clinked his with calroy’s. and when calroy woke up in the middle of the knight with amethar fast asleep on a stool, watching over him, he wraps a blanket around his shoulders and finds his new target.

_the next time was a far more dangerous swallow, a larger handful of nectar that stung sweetly as it ran down his throat._

maybe it’s the ale that poisons the mind. or maybe it’s the mind that is already poisoned to begin with. but amethar’s hair was falling in front of his face, and calroy didn’t think for a second, tucking it behind his ear.

it was a simple move, one that the common person would not bat their eye at, for it was a gesture that meant friendship. trust. intimacy. and to the outside world, that’s what calroy and amethar had.

but calroy’s hand stung as if venom was coursing through his veins, as if the brush of a finger against amethar’s skin was enough to paralyze. he couldn’t place why.

amethar chuckled, a deep, slow rumble. the two of them stood out on a balcony, the cold night wind biting their cheeks, nipping harshly against their flushed faces. calroy held his gloves in his hands, watching amethar’s face change ever so slightly as he noticed him staring.

he saw in his eyes the same boyish naivety and boldness that he’s resented for so long, ten years ago when they met in the trenches of battle. but he also saw the kindness that breathes in love and exhales care, something that calroy has indulged too much of.

but when all calroy has seen his whole life was empty jars and halfhearted handouts, he can’t help but indulge a little bit more.

“whatcha thinkin’ about, cal?” amethar smiled, a light slur on calroy’s name as he sways slightly with the wind.

calroy rose a brow at his swaying, catching himself from saying anything beyond light teasing and playful tones. he always made a point not to answer amethar’s questions about himself. “drunk already?”

“ha-pff,” amethar laughed, slapping a hand onto calroy’s back with glee. “it isn’t my fault! it’s always a good time to drink with you.”

he smiled a sneer painted so beautifully that it looks almost gentle and caring. “and i feel the same with you, your majesty.”

the happy look on amethar’s face dropped, and calroy can’t help but watch the shadows of dead bodies littered on the grounds of battle find their way in the reflection of amethar’s eyes. each body wears a circlet, and the silhouettes to a stranger may only appear as shadows in darkness, but calroy’s memorized these silhouettes as he’s seen them every night when he dreams. calroy cannot stop himself from wondering if this is what guilt feels like.

“don’t …” amethar sighed. paused. looked up, and calroy wants to look away for a reason he can’t seem to place. “don’t call me that. not yet, at least.”

calroy frowned, and the selfish part of him can’t help but grovel at amethar’s refusal of the crown. “it’s been years, amethar.”

“and those years can never replace my sisters, can they?” amethar’s voice is laced with anger, challenging calroy to try and rebuke him. the words that calroy’s tongue tainted with silver had prepared can utterly destroy the man before him in a matter of seconds. for some reason, he holds back.

“no,” calroy sighed, shaking his head. “they cannot.”

and the two of them stood there, watching the moon with emotions stirring up within them that they can’t share with one another, eyeing the sky as if it can reflect back words that they can’t form with their own mouth, begging for it to understand their feelings as they can’t do so on their own.

perhaps amethar is a foreign concept to calroy. and perhaps he does not know if he fears him like a coward, desires to explore him like an adventurer, or allows him to take up space in his mind like a philosopher.

maybe he exploits him. like what, calroy can never answer, for there are too many possibilities and not many of them fit.

a villain, perhaps. a sinner, if the bulbian faith had ever mattered to him. but that’s too concrete, too black and white.

maybe a crook. a con.

a liar.

if only he knew what were the lies that he had told the king standing before him.

_the third time he drank deeply was when he knew he was getting selfish._

travelling to the bustling city of comida, knowing he’ll be mingling with those he’s worked with for years, conspiring against the king amethar for so long. he watches himself in the mirror, stares at how his stare has hardened over the years, how his smile is more believable than before. he should be nervous. maybe calroy is selfish. maybe he’s too narcissistic for his own good, and prides himself on confidence that was built from untruths. but mirrors cannot lie.

they were built to speak the truth, if not its reversal. but a smart person can see through it. and it isn’t narcissistic for calroy to recognize that he’s smart.

he smooths out the wrinkles of his shirt. brushes back his hair. hears amethar.

“we’re leaving soon!”

smiles. a genuine one that hasn’t bloomed to the surface of his features in a while.

_morning, cal watch this, cal you’re obviously coming you’re with me ‘til the end_

it hasn’t. in a while.

_the fourth time, he submerged himself in the pool and felt the weight of the nectar surrounding him._

it was too perfect. they watched the moon together tonight like many other nights. nothing’s changed, except for the water steel dagger that calroy usually keeps within his shoe. now, he holds it in his hand.

the blade was deep, and calroy had to be careful not to let his finger slip from the handle and touch the blade by accident, for it was just as deadly to him. burying it into amethar’s body was simple. easy. quick. a maneuver he’s planned all his life, sheathing the dagger in with such ease that it almost feels like a dance.

his lips barely grazed against amethar’s ear, and he could feel his hot breath making amethar tense up even more. the king’s grunts were pained, as if even the mere action of breathing caused him pain. calroy only got one good glance at the look on amethar’s face, eyes wide with shock and fury. his skin was hot to the touch, and calroy could feel amethar’s body heating up, ready to strike back. his gaze was powerful, and calroy drank it hungrily, took it in deep with gluttony taking over his body. calroy felt the desire to drown in amethar’s glare, for watching his anger be so helpless as he stood in front of death’s door gave an adrenaline rush that nearly drove calroy to insanity. betrayal has never tasted this sweet.

the pool of nectar was up to his chin. he wanted to breathe the liquid in.

“here’s to a future you can’t ruin.”

and there the mighty king falls, leaving calroy alone on the balcony, the handle of the dagger covered in sweet, sickly blood. it takes calroy a moment to not lick the blood off of his hands, for he’s been drinking something that only serves to bring him more thirst. staring at the blood oozing from the dagger, he almost wonders if this will finally satiate him.

it does not.

_the last time calroy tasted the nectar in his throat was when his lungs contained nothing but the sickly liquid, bleeding on the battlefield with hollow eyes and no breath to breathe. he lost himself to his pool of indulgence, drank too deeply and could not recognize his drowning until the nectar was overflowing the blood in his veins. amethar was not there to save him, for he was the one on the other side, emerging victorious, with calroy’s blood on his blade. and calroy’s title was left behind, buried with him, gone forever, remaining the same as it’s always been._

_lord calroy of house cruller, the liar._

**Author's Note:**

> scream with me about calroy and calmethar on twitter @ user plumbeline!


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